


Skyclad

by runawaygypsy



Category: Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A solitary pagan ends up worshipping Loki in more ways than one</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skyclad

Skyclad

I set up my altar in the center of the room, my statue of Venus on the left, Pan on the right, surrounded by a variety of ritual instruments, an athame, a quartz wand, a silver chalice, a cauldron, a small vial of saltwater, several candles and an incense burner with two sticks of Nag Champa in them. I rolled down the blinds and turned the lights out, immersing myself in almost total darkness, save the little light from the moon and some street lamps that leaked in from between and beside the blinds. I hung my robe off the arm of a nearby club chair- this ritual would be skyclad. The moon was waxing, nearer to full, and I needed to get some more positive energy flowing into my life.  
It seemed like everything had gone full tilt into a downward spiral. Work was shit, money was being sucked into mundane things like car repairs and a never-ending conflux of bills, my family was fighting over the stupidest things and I was alone, save for my cat, who ignored me when I was working magic. 

I picked up the saltwater, cleansing my space with earth and water, walking slowly clockwise around my altar, then repeated the process with my incense, lighting it and watching the smoke tendrils as they disappeared into the air. Once again, clockwise drew the circle with my athame, and then inviting the Goddess, the God and the Guardians in as I lit the candles and sat down in the center. I closed my eyes and meditated for a bit, feeling the energy in the air as I breathed it in, feeling the positivity, and feeling the negativity leave my body as I breathed out. I asked for positive influences to come into my life and for prosperity. I left offering in the cauldron of some pieces of silver I had purchased specifically for this ritual and I drank water that had been blessed by the moon from my chalice. 

When my ritual was done, I began to open my circle and thanked my Goddess, God and Guardians for their participation when I felt a chill in the air behind me. I assumed it was just an errant gust of wind coming in from the crack under the door and dismissed it with a shiver. As my circle was officially opened, I turned to grab my robe and was greeted in the dark by a low, throaty laugh and long cool fingers grasping my hand as it closed around the fleece fabric. My heart jumped out of my chest and I caught my breath. “Skyclad, I see,” he said, “My favorite form of worship.”

My eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light, but he almost glowed. I saw translucent alabaster skin, sharp cheekbones and a leering, self-satisfied grin punctuated with mischievous emerald eyes. I gasped. “Who are you?” I asked, my body shaking in fear, a reaction I wasn't used to. 

He pulled me closer to him almost effortlessly. I could see his raven hair shining in the soft light, and he answered, “I think you know.” His voice was almost a low growl, deep, gruff, and, while it scared the hell out of me, it also hit the center of me and made me begin to burn.

“You're not real...” I began to say and he interrupted me, answering with his cold mouth on mine, then withdrawing and whispering in my ear, “You of all people should know I am definitely real.”

I tried to back away, but he still had me by the hand and with one quick sweep of his other arm had gathered me around the waist and whisked me onto his lap. “I've watched you worship many times, always to that Greek half-man Pan. Why have you never worshipped me?” 

“I was drawn to Pan by his poetry,” I answered, suddenly losing myself in those eyes.

With the flick of his wrist, my small statue of Pan was smashed against the hearth of my fireplace. “You will worship only me now,” he growled into the hollow of my throat. I felt his tongue begin flicking my neck and his free hand moved from my side, softly trailing to my hip and then between my thighs where it lingered, slowly caressing, prompting me to shift so my legs were further apart. 

I tried to stifle a moan, which ended up escaping my lips more like a ragged sigh. I tried to pull his hand out from between my legs. He let go of my hand and with another quick flick of my fingers, both my hands were suddenly bound behind me. He lifted his head. “You naughty witch,” he smiled, “I know you've longed for a God who would serve you as you served him. I plan on making you every bit mine, so much so that you will never worship another.” His lips landed on mine once again, this time, his tongue flicking in between, opening my lips more and catching mine as though in a duel. I hadn't noticed that the hand between my legs had moved again until I felt the pressure on my mound as he slid a finger inside me. I gasped, feeling the coolness of his touch, not realizing that the slow burn that had begun at my core had become an inferno that only he could quench. His thumb found my clit and began a rhythmic massage, timed with the thrusts of his finger on my most sensitive spot. I began to writhe against him, but his other hand moved down and held my hips in check. “Are you enjoying my touch?” 

I hummed and began to arch my back, lifting my breasts closer to him. He began to suckle the nearest hard, aching nipple, biting softly with his teeth, playing with it with his tongue. I moaned softly in his ear and I could feel his hardness grow underneath me as we continued.

He teased me to the brink and then suddenly stopped. I whined in protest. “Do you want more?” he laughed. I nodded my head. “What do you say?”

“Yes, my God,” I pleaded.

“What is my name?”

“Loki.”

“I want you to beg for it,” he said, pulling me from his lap, tossing me on the floor. I was slightly bewildered. “Kneel before me.”

I pulled myself off the floor and knelt by his feet. “I want you, Loki,” I cried. Raising my eyes toward him, I could see his smile. I felt the bonds disappear from my arms and my hands were free. I wrapped my arms around his legs and laid my head on his lap. 

“Stand before me,” he commanded, and I stood up, studying him more intently now. Loki stood up from the club chair, a good foot plus taller than me. A quick flash and he was as naked as I, with his magnificent member standing at attention. He put both hands around my waist and lifted me up, kissing me roughly as I spread my legs around his hips and lowered myself onto him with a moan. He carried me to the couch and sat down with me straddling him. We moved together, his ice and my fire, slowly at first, hungrily kissing each other, hands moving over each other caressing, then our pace began to quicken. He turned sideways and laid down on the couch, adjusting me over him so I was riding him and he was even deeper. I felt my core tense up and I began to dig my nails into his chest, feeling the warmth spread over me, feeling his hands clench my hips and pull me in an even faster rhythm and then total utter abandon as I let go, waves of pure pleasure washing over me with each thrust. I leaned into him, and moaned, “My God, Loki,” into his ear as I felt him release and I came down from my peak. 

We collapsed into a sweaty, exhausted mess on the couch, I with my head on his shoulder, he with his arms wrapped around my back, still holding me to him. He sighed a satisfied sigh. “I am yours now as you are mine,” he whispered. I smiled. My pleas had been answered.


End file.
